


Nottingham Can Wait

by serendipityxxi



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006), Robin Hood (TV)
Genre: 2x01, F/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityxxi/pseuds/serendipityxxi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin and Marian take a moment to celebrate that neither is dead towards the end of the Season 2 Premiere</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nottingham Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
> 
> Thanks to Jagnikjen for beta.
> 
> Note: This should fit in between Marian coming around the clothesline and finding Robin in 2x01 even though there's no real time for it in the episode itself.

Marian and Robin ducked into the barn just as the sheriff’s men came clanking around the corner. They scaled the ladder into the hayloft and pulled it up after them. Robin seized Marian around the waist and yanked her behind the hay bales just in time for the sheriff’s men to come rushing in, swords drawn. Luckily, the sheriff’s men weren’t bright enough to notice the indentations on the dirt floor where the ladder had stood mere moments before. Sometimes, Marian hoped it was because the guards secretly didn’t want to catch Robin and his gang. Most of the time, she thought it was because those helmets they wore all the time had parboiled their brains during the heat of the day. She and Robin watched them search the few empty stalls in the lower barn and then leave through the front door. The lead guard loudly grumbled about how they must’ve gone into a different building.

Marian let out the breath she’d been holding on a giggle, sagging into the hay next to Robin, who chuckled with her. The laughter was infectious. Each spurred the other on until they were gasping and giggling, tears streaming down Marian’s cheeks. Her sides ached and her throat grew hoarse from laughter. Robin rolled onto his side and traced a finger down her cheek, flicking away a few of the remaining tears.

She smiled up at him, relaxing into the hay. “I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, thinking of a few scant hours ago, standing on the battlements listening to the sheriff laugh about killing Robin Hood. When she saw him coming around that clothesline, she hadn’t known what to think - was he a ghost, an apparition, a figment of her imagination? But his arms had been warm and sure, and the scruff on his chin scratched her cheek as he tugged her to him; much as it was doing now as he pressed his lips to the faint tracks of her tears with infinite gentleness.

“Now you know how I felt,” he murmured against her skin, voice thick with emotion.

Marian’s breath caught in her throat at the tender feel of Robin’s lips against her flushed cheeks and the low rasp of his voice. His lips trailed across to her mouth, kissing her softly, slowly. Marian was the one to deepen the kiss, her tongue slipping out to swipe along his bottom lip before she nipped it. Robin’s gasp was audible and Marian was quick to soothe the hurt, sucking on his lower lip, tracing it with her tongue. They were always like this, small hurts and wordless apologies. She often wondered if it was her fault for being so contrary, and then Robin gave her that cocky grin of his, as if all the world was a lark, and she shifted the balance of blame once more. It made her chest tight to think he might never have given her that grin again. The thought drove her to kiss him even harder, tangling her fingers in the curls at the base of his skull. Robin responded in kind, rolling them so that she lay on top of him, pressed against him from breastbone to knees. Her hair fell like a curtain around them, encasing them in a private world. He leaned up and kissed her with great tenderness, his breath hot on her lips as he exhaled.

He deepened the kiss again, slipping his tongue out to trace the lines of her mouth. She slipped her own tongue out to duel with his, and Robin gave a rough sound as they fought for dominance that made Marian’s stomach clench. Robin’s hand cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her borrowed dress. Instead of batting him away as she should, Marian arched into it. She felt Robin smile against her lips, that mischievous smile she’d just lamented almost being rid of. His hand palmed her breast a little rougher than she’d expected would feel good, but it did, and Marian tamped down the urge to moan. His left hand came up to give the other breast the same attention. Her nipples tightened as his palms skimmed over them. She was wicked to be doing this, wicked to feel this good, but right then she did not care.

Her legs parted of their own accord and Marian felt his hardness through his breeches pressed directly against her core, easing and tightening the ache she felt there all at once. Robin bucked up into her at the contact, hands squeezing her breasts harder than before. That time Marian did moan, the sound travelling from her mouth into Robin’s. He grinned again and pinched lightly at her nipples, obviously trying to get her to make more sounds. Marian mock-scowled against his lips and bucked her hips down into his in retribution. Robin did not disappoint; he let out a long low groan at the contact, one hand abandoning her breast to fly down to her hips. He cupped her hip, rubbing the rough fabric against her skin. The hand at her breast worried her nipple through the dress, tugging at the sensitive bud and rolling it gently between fingers that fired arrows with the same precision as they were playing her body right now.

Marian’s hips moved against his now, grinding her softness against his hardness. The sensations were rolling through her, as if sparks were lighting up her skin. She felt an unbearable tightness spiralling low in her belly. Robin’s hand moved from her hip to cup her mound. He parted her lower lips as best he could through the fabric, and Marian gasped, flinging her head back as his finger found her sweet spot. “Oh God, Robin...” she moaned in a hushed voice.

“Yes, my love?” he replied and the smirk could be heard in full force.

Marian kept her eyes shut and ground down on him. “Don’t stop,” she instructed.

Robin sat up suddenly, disrupting their rhythm. Marian’s eyes flew open. “Never,” he promised with fervour when she met his gaze. “Never stop loving you,” he ground out, as fierce a promise as ever he’d uttered. Marian kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, working her hips against his. The look in his eyes was imprinted on the back of her lids when she closed them again, her Robin so fierce and so loving. She didn’t know how she had hardened her heart against him before; she feared she would never be able to again after this display. She cursed them both for fools and pulled herself closer to him, as close as she could, trying to express how grateful she was to have him back, how grateful she was to be there to have him, the fear of what they would have to go through, the hope she still held that this would all turn out alright; she poured all of that and more into the kiss until she had to break away to gasp in a breath.

Robin dropped his head to her shoulder and panted against her body, the hot breaths of air against the skin exposed by the cut of her dress was driving her to distraction. His hands slid around to cup her behind, grinding her into him more solidly. They both gasped at the sensation. She shouldn’t be doing this but, oh, she couldn’t stop. The feel of him solid and warm and hard against her most hidden parts caused a shiver inducing sensation every time they connected. He laid suckling kisses all along her neck. His lips found the spot, just behind her earlobe, he’d discovered years ago when they were teenagers. He laved it with his tongue and then blew cool air over it, making Marian shiver in his arms. Her fingers came up to twine in the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, sliding through them possessively.

She ground down against him in urgency now, focusing on the sensation that was spiralling up, up, up with each thrust. She ached at the thought of what this could be like without the clothes in between them but kept her head enough to know they could not. Robin’s breath was hot and heavy, his fingers like brands against her skin even through the dress. They rocked against each other faster and faster, Robin’s hardness bumping against that good spot between her legs, the sensation making her gasp and writhe. She kissed him again to stifle the moans of pleasure as all that spiralling tension snapped.

“Robin,” she cried into his mouth, going still as the waves crashed over her.

Robin’s hands came around to grip her hips and he thrust once, twice more against her and he too finished. He gasped her name like a prayer. Marian dropped her head onto his shoulder and wept.

“Shhh, love,” he murmured a hand coming up to stroke her hair, surprised by the sudden tears. “We didn’t do anything bad,” he promised.

Marian choked on her tears and hit him in the shoulder. “I know,” she muttered crossly, embarrassment at the tears and frustration at having to explain herself warring within her. “It’s just you might’ve died and I might never have told you...” Here she faltered out of fear of trusting him again and being hurt, but Marian Fitzwalter was as lion hearted as her king and if today had taught her anything, it was what it would feel like if Robin were to die without knowing how much she cared for him. She took his face between her hands. “I love you, Robin of Locksley,” she proclaimed.

Robin gave her that grin of his. “Well I should hope so after what we just did.”

Marian scowled and moved to hit him again, but this time he caught her fist and turned it over. He laid kisses on her knuckles and as she unfurled her fingers he pressed kisses against her palm and a slow suckling kiss on her wrist. The feel of his beard against the sensitive skin tickled.

“I love you, Marian,” he said, without preamble. He laid them back in the hay and wrapped his arms around her. “And I am very glad you are not dead.”

Marian laughed, the sound carrying a small echo of her tears, and tucked her head beneath his chin snugly. “I’m very glad you’re not dead either, Robin.”

The quiet surrounded them while shafts of sunlight moved across the hayloft, and beyond them, the afternoon wore on. Nottingham could wait a while.


End file.
